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His tempo is so brutal and so demanding that part of me wonders how I can take it at all. But I can. I relish in letting him have control. Because he fucks hard. Dominating. Completely in charge. Just like how he is in real life.
“God, I can’t get enough of you. You’re so fucking responsive. Come here.”
Declan pulls me nearly off the bed, curling my lower half up and bending forward, suddenly striking a chord inside me that I am helpless to resist. I don’t know how long it’s been since the first orgasm, but I’m coming for the second time in what feels like mere moments, groaning as I squirm beneath him.
“Scream for me, Spitfire,” he grunts. “Let me hear you. Let me hear every goddamn thing.”
I do, my mouth dropping open on a loud, keening cry. His name gets mixed up in a jumble of words somewhere, and his eyes flash.
“Fuck, that’s good.” His nostrils flare, the pace of his thrusts increasing. “I could come just from hearing you scream my name. You fall apart so beautifully for me.”
Just like when he took me against the window, Declan isn’t very far behind me. It’s different than the control he had over himself back in San Francisco, but it’s just as compelling. I watch in something like wonder as he grits his teeth, gripping my ankles almost painfully as he chases his pleasure, his steady movements growing erratic.
“I’m coming,” he grits out. “Take it. Fucking take all of it. Sophie!”
The last word is a hoarse shout as he finishes inside me, gasping as he tries to catch his breath and stop himself from thrusting. He leans down for a moment, his chest heaving, and our foreheads press together for a second before he’s back up and out again, discarding the condom and landing heavily on the bed beside me.
I’m still quivering from what he’s done to me and so out of it. I swear that I had an out of body experience with that last orgasm and I’m still trying to find my way back. Pieces of me feel missing, and although it seems like I should be worried about that, I’m not. Everything will come together in time.
Declan is still breathing hard, although his exhales are gradually quieting, and I roll toward him. I want to see the man he is when his walls are down. As amazing as the sex is, I’m maybe looking forward to this moment even more. The Declan who’s a little softer. More open. The man I could be friends with in addition to… whatever it is we’re doing.
I start to say something, not altogether sure what’s about to come out of my mouth, but instead of letting me speak, he pulls me to him and kisses me.
Maybe he’s trying to keep the words in.
Maybe that’s a good idea.
He rubs his thumb over my lower lip when our kiss breaks and then looks away again, back up at the ceiling.
I bite my lip, gazing at the strong profile of his face. This is different than what I expected, particularly since he was so plugged in—literally and figuratively—when we were having sex. He was attuned to me and my body, giving me everything I needed and then some.
But now? He isn’t cold, but there’s a distance there that I didn’t expect.
“Are you okay?” I ask, almost worried about how he’ll react to the question. I wonder if it’s violating the rules of our agreement, asking a personal question after we just had such intense, intimate sex.
He smiles, but there’s something a bit stiff about it. “Yes. It’s just been a long week.”
I wait. I don’t want to pick at him, but I wish he’d give me more. After a full ten seconds of silence, though, his dark eyebrows knit together.
“My grandmother…”
His frown deepens, and he sets his jaw, almost as if he’s physically attempting to keep himself from saying more.
I wish he would. I’d love to know more about him, about who he is outside of Dynasty—and outside of this bed. At the same time, though, I realize that me wanting more is exactly what I promised not to do. If this is really going to be just about sex, then there’s no reason I should want the rest of it—the emotional intimacy, the pillow talk, and the window opening into who Declan is as a person.
That all needs to stop if I want this to continue. He doesn’t want me in his life. He’s made that perfectly clear.
I clear my throat and smile when he fixes that molten gaze on me. “You know, I’ve heard that sex is a great stress relief. Just the remedy that’s needed for long weeks.”
“I’ve heard that too,” he says, a corner of his mouth tilting up in a smirk as he rolls toward me.
Kissing is… good. Amazing. A perfectly wonderful alternative to talking. When we’re kissing, I know where I stand. I know that Declan wants me. I relish his tongue’s leisurely ownership of my mouth. And the taste of him… that hint of mint is all but gone, and it’s just Declan. I think I prefer it. Nothing between us. No layers to keep us apart.
He reaches between us and slips his fingers inside me, making a sound that could be a laugh against my lips as his hand comes away wet. Just as I am responsible for his hardening length making its presence known against my stomach, he is responsible for just how slick I still am.
Rolling away briefly for another condom—I hope he has a lot of those, because we are definitely going to need them—Declan prepares himself and scalds me with another kiss that I can feel from my scalp to my toes.
“Ready?” he asks, although it’s obvious he doesn’t need to. We’re both ready to go again, even if we’ve already done this twice. I’ve witnessed the power of this man’s stamina before, but this is something else entirely. Either he never has much of a refractory period… or this is because of me.
